Gia Raquel

I’ve drafted so many poems in my mind

About the way you caress the arches of my cheeks

About the toothy grin you get when you crack a joke that makes me laugh

About how beautiful you are

Even though I don’t even love you

Even though I don’t even know you

It was my third week of college

And I had been in your bed every night

I liked how you were strong

How possibly if I had you

I didn’t have to make eye contact with men on the street

Or muster up the energy to block out their shouts

I am exhausted

Your breathing slowed with your hand in my hair

Normally, I would feel safe

But you thought I was joking

You assumed I was yours

And you can do what you want when something is yours, right?

You used to break your toy cars not even a day after your mom bought them for you

It took a little longer than a day

But if you ever decide to look close enough

You will see the outline of a body on your bed

Knees tucked in,

The white tape will tremble attempting to convey my shaking limbs

My bitten neck

My silenced crying

You were strong, but I should’ve done more

I should’ve done more

If you love me so much then why does your sober mind not recall the refusal to meet your lips?

I feel like half of a victim

Like I don’t have a right to feel this disgusted

Because what if it was my fault?

The bathroom lights made me dizzy

I couldn’t stop staring at myself

I hoped it would all stop spinning

But I ended up crying at the foot of a stranger who couldn’t ask what’s wrong

Because she was crying too

I bruised my knuckles this morning

After I pulled myself out of your bed

I was so tired I almost did not remember I had cried six hours prior

My body is a temple

But if that’s the case there is only debris ripping at my hair

And sewing my eyes shut

So maybe then, if I squeeze hard enough

The color splotches floating through my irises will block out the memory of your body against my own

Mommy, I made a mistake and I don’t know how to fix it

The only thing I have is the foggy memory of his fingers inside me

Tears are not lubrication

Don’t try this at home

Don’t try this at all

He told me he was sorry

But by the time I got back from the bathroom

He was asleep

I wanted to go home

But I don’t have a home

I thought about calling you

But, god, what good would that do?

Mommy, I’m sorry

I should’ve listened

I should’ve fought harder

I should’ve

But I didn’t